Unforgivable
by Noromatsuj
Summary: Times were dark. 'The Light Side' was losing. Decisions had to be done. Plans rushed. Power gained. Time will unravel as plots and deception, and the length of people who will do anything to prove their right is revealed. While Time is endless, it reveals all darkness, and nothing is darker than greed of the heart. This will have some light Hermione/Harry in the future.
1. Chapter 1

1944, Somewhere in Austria…

He looked over his notes, sweat dribbling down his brow, cascading into his facial hair as he finished out the notes. They were losing the war, _**HE**_ was too powerful. It should have been him. He was the one who had the foresight for the future, not _**THE OTHER**_. He trust him. But it wasn't meant to be.

Now, he had to use _alternatives_ and _unsavory_ solutions. The fact of using them didn't bother him. After all, he intended to use them anyway. But now, he had to rush it, and rushing caused mistakes. Rushing through testing caused missed variables. Unforeseen problems.

He sighed, wiping his brow again. They would have to be acceptable losses. The future was the future. What was important was the **now**. He **needed** the power. He **needed** the control. The world **needed** him.

After all, it was for the _**Greater Good**_.


	2. Chapter 2

"Albus..." why did his sister always talk in that soft voice. He so missed her.

"Albus..." insistent sounding now. Why did he miss his sister? Had he forgotten?

"Albus..." his sister was the first after all. His sister. How proud he was of her.

"Albus..." why was his sister being so insistent today. It was just like that one time. So long ago.

"Albus!" isn't my sister dead? And why is she raising her voice?

"Albus!" wait what. Where was he…

**** 1978, Hogwarts

Albus slowly raised his head from his hand, which itself rested on the head table and glanced up to the questioning eyes of the students. Turning slowly to his right, he saw the deputy headmistress glaring cat eyes at his dazed look, and blinked owlishly back. Dozing off at the closing feast. How embarrassing.

Albus coughed, clapped his hands "We have just seen, first hand I fear, what a good meal and good company can provide ones self. Before you repeat my joyous short adventure..." smatterings** of laughter echoed in the hall** ".. I shall release you on your way. Take care on your way home, times are dangerous for one and all and I would much prefer to see you back the following year."

Standing, Albus waved his wand, the torches lighting the way out "Let these very lights light your way and your hearts, in our darkening times. Farewell, and classes dismissed!"

Shouts of joy echoed as the students stood and left, clapping, hugging and celebrating as they left. It was like this every year. Some years more. Some years less. Blind. All of them. To be young. And yes, foolish. Some may discover the truth, eventually. But those who have are always too late. Too late. One way, or another.

Albus nods his head and slowly walks out of the side chamber, back to his office, to plan for the summer and the following year. A small smile and twinkling eyes lighting the way to his past, his own darkness as he softly mutters "It will soon be time."

**** 1978, Hogwarts Express

The train was as it always was. Dependable. Fast. Churning in calm, continuous sounds. Soothing for those who were long used to it. A door closes, a couple joins a small group already gathered in the carriage.

"We've graduated! Can you believe it?" James Potter said, as he glances about with his well known smirk.

Sirius chuckled, "I'm surprised you were not detained, with the prank you pulled on Snape before you left."

Lily glared at them both "Would you two grow up? Granted, he did deserve it this time..." **twin deadpan looks are given to her** "… OK, deserved it most of the time." **nodding of heads** "but if you continue to do this, eventually you'll not take a situation serious and you could get yourself into a situation you are unable to get out of. Not every situation is a game, a joke, or a situation you can trick your way out!"

Remus, ever the calm one, spoke up from the side "Lily, I've been trying to get them past their childishness for years. Maybe you marrying this idiot will clean him up." Remus glances smugly toward Sirius, "We can only hope Sirius finds someone who'll look past his wet dog smell to do the same for him." **he dodges a purple spell, which turns the wood beside him a shade of purple and begins to grow moss** "Really Sirius?"

Sirius puts away his wand and smirks "Just making sure you keep those wolf-like reflexes up to shape!" **noticing the cringe** "You need to get past your self loathing. We like you for you, Remus, it's time you like you for you."

Remus shrugs, "We'll see.", and turns to look out the window, watching the landscape pass by, as a window to the soul itself.

James sighs, "Anyway, you mutts will be at my wedding, right? I expect you reprobates to stand up with me. Talking reprobates, where is Peter anyway? He keeps dissapearing. I told you the last few spells on him likely addled his brains."

Lily looks up, worried "There's something about Peter I just don't trust, James."

James shakes his head, "He hit on you once. Just once, last year, and he was drunk. He said he didn't mean it."

Lily turns her head, watching the passing of the train and eventually softly utters "He never apologized."

James and Sirius meet each other's eyes, they caught that as well.

***** Somewhere secluded in Scotland

He didn't have much time. His mind was his own, and it took weeks of fighting for this small reprieve. He had to write down the warning. What he discovered. He couldn't let this go. Not only was the magicals at risk, but so were the mundanes. Mundanes, that was a valid word, not Muggles. Never muggles. Insulting. Deriding. Insults to his mother, who was driven insane by the pure-bloods ideology like others like her. Like half bloods. Like himself.

No. NO. He had no time to wonder his thoughts. He had to concentrate, continue writing all the while occluding his thoughts. Tighten his mental vault. Make sure no seams were there. Make sure they couldn't be dug up. The future of the very world depended on this. Others have figured this out as well. They were destroyed. Utterly. He couldn't afford to be another. And like those before him, he had to pass on what he discovered.

He had no delusions that he would be the answer. He was powerful. More powerful than most. But the solution to this would never be power. Based on the calculations he and those before him did, power could **never** be the answer. No one would ever have enough. No, the answer here was math. Pure. Simple. Math.

More mad scribbling on the enchanted book. Long enchanted by all those before him, and he himself, so only within a singular mind would one even see the tome, let alone write in it.

He blinked his eyes. Sweat barring his vision. No. No it wasn't sweat. It was… was… what was he thinking about? Yes. That's right. He was going to lead another raid. Cause terror and revel in it.

Only the pure would rule the world after all. And Lord Voldemort would lead the way.

He walked out of the small fidelius enchanted enclosure, the open tome forgotten, the pen dropping from fingers that long forgot it was holding it, to fall, bouncing on the floor.

His steps echoed away in the distance, the tome glowed, slowly closing, and awaiting the next rare moment it could be used.

***** Somewhere else on Hogwarts Express

Crying.

That seemed to be all he could do anymore. This was one of the rare moments of clarity he had. He knew, deep down, that there was something seriously wrong. Seriously wrong with the magic world. With himself. With his very power and what he controlled. If only he could figure out why. Why was he locked behind the glass wall of his life. Why did it feel like he had nothing.

Why he felt like he was nothing.

He continued to cry, scrubbing at his bare arms without knowing why. As if there was an itch he couldn't scratch. Something he knew was going to be vile, but was to be forced on him.

Forced on him like everything else seemed to be.

Why couldn't he stop it? Barely was he even able to keep these few moments of lucid thought.

It was frightening.

Looking up into the glass of the Hogwarts Express windows, the echoed image of Severus Snape looked back. Tear tracks down his face. Black slits of eyes that stared back in abject terror. Eyes that were empty.

Eyes that were soulless.

Wiping his eyes, he looked back up, a weird, dark, sinister smile on his face. Soon, he would have the dark mark, and all would be well in the world.

After all, it was for the _**Greater Good**_.


End file.
